


The Cello

by Caladenia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode: s03e15 Coda, F/M, Fluff, Musical Instrument - Freeform, Voyager Talent Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22520467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caladenia/pseuds/Caladenia
Summary: ‘I love music. I've always regretted that I never learnt to play an instrument. I'm sure I could find time for a few lessons.'Talent Night, one year after Coda.
Relationships: Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway, Kathryn Janeway & Tuvok
Comments: 13
Kudos: 53
Collections: Voyager Talent Night Extravaganza





	The Cello

**Author's Note:**

> My thanks, once again, to BlackVelvet42 for her beta work. 
> 
> And my overall gratitude to all those talented writers who participated in the 2020 Voyager Talent Night Extravaganza. Please have a look at their performances by clicking on the Collection tag.

* * *

Tuvok sat on the edge of the seat, striving to maintain his composure, hands flat on his thighs and the back straight.

He had learnt much about torture over his long career in Starfleet. The random cruelty of aliens aimed at retrieving access codes, information on weapons and attack plans, or just intended to break the spirit of their captives. The daily will-sapping irritation of dealing with humans and other species intent on illogical beliefs and behaviours. The inner and deep-seated pain of being away from his family, not knowing when he would see his wife and children again.

A particularly strident string of notes pierced through the mental walls he had erected. He flinched despite his best intentions to endure for a while longer. This torment was nothing he could rationalise nor set aside by willpower alone.

A mumbled ‘sorry’ reached him over the ringing in his ears.

“The ka'athyra is not an easy instrument to master, Captain. Your determination in learning to play it is commendable.” He fought the urge to shake his head to get rid of the last notes still deeply imprinted in his auditory cortex.

The captain pushed an errant lock of hair off her brow. She looked at the instrument with something akin to despondency, a rare emotion for her. “Thank you, Tuvok, but I am beginning to think it’s a lost cause.”

“It is possible _Voyager_ ’s replicators don’t have the right schematics. Most ka'athyras are made by hand by Vulcan luthiers, apprenticed for decades to their teachers. A replicated one might not be able to achieve the melodic qualities this instrument is renowned for.”

Janeway gave him a crooked smile. “Are you saying my latest efforts were not melodious?”

“I admit not to have ever heard the chords you just played.”

“And hope to never hear them again, I gather.” Laughing, she put the lute in its case before walking to her replicator. “One Vulcan tea and one black coffee.”

She returned with two steaming cups and handed him his tea. “I must apologise, Tuvok. Over the past few weeks, you’ve been stoically suffering through my less than fruitful efforts. I know you well enough, my friend, to realise it hasn’t been a relaxing time for you.”

Tuvok inclined his head, acknowledging the truth in her statement. “And I regret my teaching skills have yet to come to fruition. However, this year’s talent night is still a month away, enough time to reach an acceptable level of proficiency for the duet you have in mind.”

Janeway sat on the couch with a resigned sigh, folding her legs under her. “You’ve been more than reasonable in agreeing to my whim, but I’m just not cut to play this particular instrument. I don’t want to put a damper over your own performance, and I’m afraid I’ll have to bow out of talent night.”

That would be highly undesirable. While he had little need to show off his ‘talents’, Tuvok understood enough of human psychology to realise the crew required recreational outlets on their long journey home. And the captain more than most. “I do hope you’ll be looking for another option,” he said.

“I’ve taken dancing off the list. Too many memories I am not willing to bring up again.” Pain passed over her features, and her long fingers tightened around the warm mug. “A recitation of Dante does not seem to be quite appropriate either.”

“Maybe Commander Chakotay might be of assistance?”

“I nearly had to make it an order for him to participate this time. I can’t reasonably ask him to help me.” She lifted her head. “That’s why I asked you to give me a few lessons. I thought I would become proficient enough if I practiced hard. I’ve always wanted to play a musical instrument.”

Tuvok pondered the captain’s mood. In common with many Starfleet captains, she wasn’t used to seeing her endeavours thwarted if she put her mind to it. Regrettably, mastering the ka'athyra entailed more than pure determination.

“A famous ka'athyra performer was asked one day if there wasn’t another instrument she could have chosen instead. She must be tired of playing such a difficult instrument for so long, it was implied. Something different and less demanding might bring her more joy and pleasure. She answered it was the ka'athyra that had chosen her since the day she had held one in her hands when she was but a child. Maybe your instrument hasn’t found you yet, Captain.”

Kathryn gave him a beaming smile over the rim of her coffee cup. “It’s a marvellous idea, Tuvok, to imagine there’s an instrument waiting for me somewhere in the galaxy. I’ll give some serious thought to look for it, thank you.”

After a few more minutes of easy banter to which he submitted with good grace, Tuvok took his leave. As much as he was grateful for not having to endure more of his pupil’s efforts, he was saddened his private time with his friend had ended.

He stepped in the corridor to find Chakotay leaving his own quarters in deep thoughts. “Commander,” Tuvok said, as he stopped at his level.

“What did you—” A blush came over the usually composed features of _Voyager_ ’s first officer. “Sorry,” he said, taking small earplugs out of his ears. “I take it the captain’s lesson has finished for the day?” he asked, an apologetic smile on his face.

“They have indeed.”

“Thank god for that,” Chakotay murmured.

“Wouldn’t your office be a better location to spend your evening when the captain is practicing?”

“After your lesson has ended, Kathryn often invites me to her quarters to review the bridge schedule for the following few days. It’s the least I can do not to give her the impression I’ve spent the entire time she was playing somewhere else on the ship.”

Tuvok lifted one eyebrow. “I see. So, you endure too.”

Chakotay tugged at his ear. “She always speaks of your lessons very enthusiastically, and I’m glad she’s found a way to relax, even if neither of us do. A small price to pay to know she’s enjoying herself, wouldn’t you say?”

“Indeed, Commander. However, the captain has decided not to pursue her ka'athyra lessons. She believes, with some accuracy I might add, that the Vulcan lute is not for her.”

Chakotay’s faced relaxed for a brief moment, then he frowned. “Has she decided to give up on participating in the talent night? I don’t think that would be good.”

“She gave me the impression she might try to find a different instrument to play.”

“Good for her.” Chakotay glanced down the corridor, with what Tuvok surmised was both relief and apprehension. “At least, it can’t get any worse, can it.”

The man’s fortitude was worth acknowledging. “You could put in a requisition with Engineering to improve the sound insulation of your quarters.”

“I thought about that, but she’s been having nightmares from time to time since the last talent night, and they’ve become more frequent lately. I prefer to...”

He didn’t elaborate, and Tuvok did not need to guess what lay at the core of the captain’s dreams. The mere existence of a being feeding on dying souls had shaken his Vulcan poise too. Only deep meditation and rigorous mental exercises had brought back calm and serenity to his mind. He doubted Kathryn Janeway had been able to easily set aside the memories of the creature either. Death, after all, was a constant in this universe, and could nourish such entities anywhere.

~Kathryn to Chakotay.~

Chakotay tapped his combadge. “Chakotay here, Captain.”

~I’d like to discuss next week’s roster with you, Commander, when you are free.~

“Of course. I’ll be there immediately. Chakotay out.”

Tuvok caught the change in Janeway’s tone from relaxed and familiar to professional at her first officer’s use of her command title. She had expected Chakotay to be alone when she had commed him. While Tuvok was not sure of the exact nature of the relationship between _Voyager_ ’s command team, he felt some relief to know that the first officer standing in front of him was as dedicated to the captain's well-being as he was to his other ship responsibilities.

“I’ll go and meditate in my quarters and leave you to your duties, Commander.”

“And I’ll see you on the bridge tomorrow. Good night, Tuvok.”

**⁂**

The next half an hour passed quickly as Janeway and Chakotay planned the week ahead. The ship's stores were full to the brim, the engines purred to the satisfaction of the Chief Engineer, and the region of space they were travelling through was free of dangerous spatial anomalies and aggressive aliens. Just the right time to discuss the coming talent night.

“I’m not telling you,” Kathryn said with a wave of her hand.

“But you are going to participate, aren’t you?”

“Yes, of course. But I prefer not to say anything until I’m sure what I’ve got in mind will work. What about you?”

“I still haven’t got a clue.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t worry,” he quickly added. “Something will come up, I am sure.”

“You aren’t putting much effort into this event, Chakotay. What’s troubling you?”

He shrugged. “I haven’t got that many abilities, really. Carving is hardly going to attract many spectators, and not everybody enjoys watching a boxing match. My skills are more personal than entertaining.”

“Then, do like me and embrace something new,” Kathryn said, putting her hand on his arm.

He put his hand on hers and smiled, happy to see her in a good mood and bursting with enthusiasm. “I‘ll think about it, I promise.”

**⁂**

Three days later, and Chakotay was fast running out of ideas. At his wits’ end, he asked B’Elanna for her thoughts, and soon got roped into a demonstration of Klingon hand-weapons. Tom had declined to train with B'Elanna any further after a close encounter with the pommel of a d'k tahg blade had landed him in sickbay with a mild concussion.

The challenge suited Chakotay just fine. Whenever their timetables coincided, he spent a couple of hours in the holodeck with B’Elanna, honing their moves. It was a different workout from boxing, and he enjoyed the exercise with a partner who wasn’t afraid to give as much as she took.

Meanwhile, Kathryn kept her performance under wrap. She wasn't rehearsing in her quarters anymore, and although the silence on the other side of the bulkhead was a welcome change, he would have been happier if she had confided in him. He believed this coming talent night to be an important step in warding off any reminder of the day when he had almost lost her on that dreaded planetoid.

When B’Elanna almost decapitated him with a gin-tak spear, he decided to focus all his attention on his own routine and not give any more thoughts to Kathryn’s mystery act.

**⁂**

The 2374 Talent Night Spectacular had attracted so many performers that Neelix, true to style, decided to stretch the one night over three evenings of extravaganza. An air of holiday and good humour permeated the ship’s corridors, smiles on everybody’s lips as they discussed their coming performances in hushed tones to close friends. Only Neelix knew the details of every performance, and he remained tight-lipped while jumping with excitement with every day passing.

Chakotay and B’Elanna were scheduled as the end act of the second night, and they practised until the last minute. By the time the curtain rose, Chakotay had all but forgotten about Kathryn’s performance the day after.

The demonstration started well, with B’Elanna doing most of the more complicated moves. The blades clashed with a satisfying clang, and the oohs and aahs of the crowd told him people were aware those weapons were not blunted. A few close shaves which they had rehearsed many times drew some admirative applause. It was only when he saw Kathryn’s eyes growing wider as the performance rose to its crescendo that he realised using combat weapons outside the safety of the holodeck might not have been such a good idea.

The cry of the warrior on her lips, B’Elanna chose that moment to launch into her last move. Chakotay brought his own weapon down to block her move. She spun around in one elegant movement, the tip of the bat'leth swishing through the air towards his chest.

As practiced many times, Chakotay shifted his weight to his back foot to avoid the blade, but stepped on the hem of the tall red curtain covering the side wall. His backwards momentum impeded, he slammed against the wall before hitting the floor with a thump, his face landing only a few feet from the front row of spectators. His eyes met Kathryn’s, who had her hand to her mouth, her face white as a sheet. Only then did he feel a trail of sharp pain across his chest, his leather chest pad neatly cut through by the bat'leth.

B’Elanna dropped her weapon and called for the EMH while Chakotay stood. “It’s just a flesh wound,” he said with a smile, waving the Doctor away. Taking B’Elanna’s hand in his, he bowed to the audience who applauded unreservedly.

When he lifted his head, the captain was nowhere to be seen.

**⁂**

“I should throw you both in the brig.” Kathryn paced the ready room, concern and frustration written all over her.

Chakotay took a deep breath. He would have been upset too if she’d been the one injured, but she was over-reacting. “It was an accident,” he said in a conciliatory tone. “Because of the size of the crowd, Neelix had to make the stage smaller, and I never thought to check with him. B’Elanna and I were caught unawares, but no harm was done.”

Kathryn stopped her pacing and briefly closed her eyes as if she was replaying the scene in her head. “You got hurt.”

“It was only a superficial cut. B’Elanna is much too skilled.”

Throwing her arms in the air, Kathryn resumed making a grove into the carpet. “She didn’t even apologise!”

“She didn’t have to. She is Klingon. A little blood is hardly going to phase her.”

“That’s not the point.”

Chakotay was getting uncomfortable with the direction the discussion was taking. His hope for the talent night to put Kathryn's mind off what had happened the year before, was evaporating fast. “It was a silly accident, I agree. Next time, we’ll have a good look at the stage beforehand and rehearse appropriately.”

Janeway shook her head. “There won’t be a next time. I am cancelling all live demonstrations of weapon handling.”

“Don’t you think you are exaggerating? Do you ban Neelix’ cooking because of a few stomach aches?”

She crossed her arms. “I won’t let my crew die on stage.”

“You are blowing things out of proportion, and you know it.”

She faced him with a glare in her eyes which negated her concern about dead crew members.

He knew what was bothering her, but he didn’t want to push her to admit it. Not with her own performance the following day. “Kathryn—"

“Dismissed.”

**⁂**

The last night was to be a musical wonderment according to the program. Ayala sung lullabies from a range of Alpha quadrant cultures. He had a good voice, and there were few people among the spectators who didn’t have tears in their eyes by the time he finished. Chakotay promised himself to thank his former Maquis crew member for his choice of act.

A snappy jazzy piece Harry had specially written for the event provided a great counterpoint, bringing smiles all round. Tuvok followed with a subtle performance on the ka'athyra, which did wonders to erase his recitation of Vulcan poetry the year before from Chakotay’s memory.

The curtain closed over Tuvok dipping his head at the audience’s quiet appreciation. Kathryn was in the next act, her performance still shrouded in secret. The only clue was the word ‘Strings’ written on the old-fashioned blackboard standing near the stage.

While the order of the acts had been drawn from a hat, the sitting had been left to first come, first serve. When Neelix stepped up, Chakotay regretted not to have arrived earlier to sit closer to the stage.

“Everyone, please welcome our last performers, Jenny and Megan Delaney, and Kathryn Janeway.”

Chakotay rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants. This year was not last year. This performance would not lead to a repeat of the disaster that had befallen Kathryn last time. She was not going to die.

The curtain rose over the Delaney sisters sitting at the front of the stage with violins in their hands. They bowed, then immediately started on a lively tune—Irish it sounded to Chakotay, although his knowledge of Earth music was limited. He shifted on his seat, concerned that Kathryn had cancelled her appearance all together. He should have supported her more; insisted she tried something, anything. He should not have brushed off her concerns about his injury, as insignificant as it was. He should have—

The tune died down, people warmly applauded, then they started to whisper to each other as a third chair was added, set in the shadows behind the sisters’ seats.

“Where is the captain?” B’Elanna asked Chakotay. His response was drowned when Kathryn walked on the stage, holding a large string instrument, a cello by the look of it. She had set aside her uniform for the occasion as all the other talent night participants, and wore an ankle-length dark blue dress, her arms and shoulders bare. Chakotay let out a sigh of relief, his fingers toying with the ear plugs in his pocket as if by reflex.

The Delaney once again took the lead with a couple of slower, almost mournful tunes this time. Kathryn accompanied them, her attention entirely focused on the music sheet in front of her and the large and seemingly unwieldy instrument. It would not have been easy to master it in only a few weeks, and Chakotay admired her for making a convincing effort.

The applause was less vibrant this time. The crowd was getting restless, wanting to finish on a bright and uplifting note. Megan turned to look at Kathryn who gave her a hesitant smile, but Megan shook her head, as if she was remonstrating with _Voyager_ ’s captain. Chakotay could only wonder what all that was about.

Megan stood and hushed down the listless crowd. “And now, to celebrate three days of great fun and joy, let’s dance.”

It didn’t take long for the chairs to be pushed to either sides of the cargo bay. Harry came to stand near Kathryn with his clarinet, while Ayala took over the microphone.

Chakotay expected Kathryn to stand aside, but she kicked her shoes off, hitched her dress to the knees, and grasped the bow with renewed vigour. He wasn’t too sure what happened next as the music vaulted into spirited tunes one after the other. Somehow, all he could see was Kathryn’s fingers running down the neck of the cello, the bow stroking the strings. As the tempo rose, her feet kept beat with the music, and a sliver of bare flesh climbed up her leg, the dress parting at the thigh.

Chakotay swallowed hard, his heartbeat masking the music. He was jarred out of his daze by a very determined Sam who led him into dance moves he caught quickly enough, surprising himself. With barely a moment to breathe, he found himself close to the stage and looked up at Kathryn whose face was taut with concentration.

The pace set by the Delany sisters accelerated once more, and Kathryn leaned her head against the cello as if talking to it before silencing it. She was ready to walk away, probably having decided she couldn’t keep up with the more seasoned musicians, but Chakotay would have none of it. He caught Ayala’s eyes and his friend understood without being told. He approached the microphone and turned to Janeway. “A big round of applause to our newest band member: Kathryn Janeway at the cello.”

Kathryn froze, her hands full with the instrument. All she could do was take a bow and blush at the thundering handclapping and loud whistles. Ayala took pity on her and directed the attention of the enthusiastic audience to the other band members, introducing them one by one.

Chakotay took advantage of the distracted crowd to sneak behind the curtains, catching Kathryn as she rested the cello against the backstage wall.

“Kathryn?”

She turned around with a wild smile on her face. “I did it, Chakotay! I played an instrument!”

Caught in the atmosphere of the evening, he took her by the waist and spun her around. “You did, Kathryn. You did.”

They stopped, slightly breathless. “I really should thank Tuvok for his suggestion to try a different instrument than the Vulcan lute,” she said, her eyes dancing. Her hands slid up his chest and locked behind his neck while his were still clasping her midriff.

His body hummed, echoing her happiness. She was celebrating more than playing the cello now standing silent behind her. Nothing was going to happen to her. Twelve months on and she had cast aside the last remainders of her encounter with the death entity for good. She was strong and alive in his hands.

“Tuvok would be pleased,” he said, his eyes trailing over the blush on her cheeks and the sparkle in her gaze.

“He was very patient sitting there while I tortured that damn ka'athyra,” she added, her face inching closer to his.

Chakotay’s focus was drawn to her lips. “He was indeed.”

“You too, listening to me from your quarters while I practiced for weeks on end,” she whispered.

He moved his thumbs against her lower ribs in small circles. “Not a problem, I hardly heard a thing.” Without looking down, he grabbed the earplugs out of his pocket, dangling them at head level.

Her eyes widened, and he pulled her closer before she had time to fire a well-deserved repartee. “But you are right,” he hummed in the corner of her mouth, “practice makes perfect.”

Not that kissing was something either of them needed to rehearse. It was perfect the first time.

**Author's Note:**

> ‘I love music. I've always regretted that I never learnt to play an instrument. I'm sure I could find time for a few lessons.' from Episode: s03e06 Remember
> 
> Homage to Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975), and Terry Jones (1942- Jan 2020).


End file.
